“Also, I was mainly asking if you’ve had dinner,” he said.
Oh. I stifled another yawn. “That’s still on the list. I might pick somethin’ up on the way home. Coho Bar & Grill has a chicken sandwich that isn’t too unhealthy.”
He held up his takeout bag briefly. “I have tomato soup and fresh bread,” he answered. “And half a rotisserie chicken in the fridge. Ma’s baked ziti too. And ice cream in the freezer. If that sounds better than walking home in the rain.”
I blinked. Was he inviting me up to his place for supper?
“I don’t know about you,” he continued, “but when I don’t feel well, I prefer having someone else heat my food while I feel sorry for myself on the couch.”
Holy crap, hewasinviting me upstairs.
My stomach tightened with a rush of nervousness and anticipation, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to say no. That was the whole damn problem with Ethan. It was so hard to keep my distance when he was all charming and kind and clearly not giving a rat’s ass about keeping our relationship 100% professional.
I felt my mouth twist into a smile. “What kind of ice cream? I thought you didn’t have a sweet tooth.”
He chuckled. “You’re gonna laugh, but every now and then, I get a hankering for vanilla ice cream and mini pretzels.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Like, you crush them in there, or…”
He shrugged. “I dip them.”
Salty and sweet.
“I don’t know why I’d laugh—my ice cream habit is way weirder than yours,” I responded. “I eat ice cream with a fork.”
He blanched at that. “Afork?”
I nodded and returned the blanket to the basket next to my chair. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, is all I’m sayin’.” I rose to my feet and drew an unsteady breath, and I suddenly had a million butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach. “My headache is bad enough for me to accept your invitation and postpone a dreary walk home.”
He cranked up the charm again, as if my answer made him genuinely happy, and I didn’t fucking know what to do with that. Was there even the remote chance of him being interested in someone like me, or was he maybe…I don’t know, simply trying to recruit a new friend? We did have family in common, which blurred the lines.
“Perfect. It’s been a long time since I had exciting Friday night plans.” He was probably joking. “This will put Ma at ease. She worries sometimes I’m becoming a hermit like Darius.”
I laughed softly. “Your definition of exciting might need some work, but I’ll be happy to put your mother at ease.” Not that I believed for a second that having soup with me was something he’d share with her.
I gathered my things and shouldered my purse, then flicked off the lights and set the alarm.
“Lead the way, Coach,” I said as we left.
He cast me a quick glance and held the door open for me. “I thought we agreed you were gonna call me sugar or adorable.”
Oh God, please stop it.
Did he really speak that way to other clients?
“Strange. I don’t remember such an agreement,” I noted. The moment we stepped outside, I shuddered at the cold and wished I’d brought something other than a cardigan. A snowsuit would’ve been better.
He hummed. “Maybe it is Ebola. You’re clearly losing it.”
I coughed a laugh and smacked his arm, which made him grin.
Someone was stuck on Ebola. Someone also didn’t know anything about the symptoms of Ebola.
Within seconds, we were at Ethan’s address, and he unlocked the door and let me enter first.
I sent him a quick smile and walked in. “Thanks, sugar.”
I’d expected a smug grin or a satisfied smirk, and while the satisfaction was firmly in place, the humor was gone. Maybe it was the close proximity in a cramped lobby that made me see things that weren’t there, but for a quick second, I thought I saw heat in his eyes.
